(#1/8) The Turkey Trip

When it was snowing sideways and daylight lasted for 6 hours, I decided that I needed to buy a plane ticket to a hot place. Once upon a time I saw a pretty cool picture of Turkey, so that was good enough for me. Seven months later I was not disappointed.

 6 Aug 2011-

Good grıef, where do I even start?! So far the biking in Turkey ıs super easy, the cars gıve me a WIDE berth and a polite little honk to let me know they are comıng up behind me. This almost made me pee myself the first time it came from a big lorry, but now I find myself appreciating the not so subtle heads up. There isn't very much traffic on the main roads so the biking is relaxing, but this is not the way it started. 

I flew into Istanbul then caught a connecting flight into Kayseri, a smaller city in the center of Turkey. A picture of the rock formations in Cappadocia area was the whole basis for me traveling to Turkey so I thought I would start there. I landed, and went to the baggage claim to wait for my bike. I waited, and waited, and waited some more. Two days later, looking like it had a run in with the jaws of life, my bicycle and most of my belongings decided to join me on my cycling trip. 

While trying not to let the fact that the screws attaching the wheels to my bike were gone ruin my trip, I received my first taste of Turkish hospitality. My bike box was brought out to me on a flatbed cart with it's bowels exploding all the gear I needed for a month. I stared at it in open mouth shock. An airport official who was walking past looked at me, looked at the mess of bike parts then promptly sat me down and brought me hot tea and biscuits. After nibbling my cookies and slurping my tea my shock and dismay dissipated. I methodically put my bike together and miraculously the only thing missing was the quick lock that keeps the front wheel stuck on the bike. In a pinch a nut will work in it's place, and soon there were airport workers running to equipment closets and tool boxes to find the right size nut. When we found one that finally worked a collective cheer went up from the now sizable crowd. I was clapped on the back and herded out of the airport with an entourage of well wishers waving me off. I pedaled out the sliding door and into Turkey.

A right turn out of the airport seemed the least treacherous so right I went. Cars were whizzing past me at a furious pace and lane lines didn't exist. Ahead looked like a crazy jumble of madness. My balloon of headstrong self reliance quickly deflated into a withered little puddle of questioning my chosen method of travel. This wedge of doubt was bolstered by the fact that I had absolutely no idea of where I was going or even which direction I was headed. Suddenly ahead was a gigantic shiny, and welcoming bus terminal... and it was on the right. 

Taking the bus is far easier than biking, so in a matter of hours I found myself in Göreme. A little village nestled in a valley of questionable looking spires. This area was on the silk road trade route and throughout thousands of years monks, vıllagers, and nomads have hollowed out living quarters, churches, and pigeon rookeries (apparently you were a nobody if you did not deal in pigeon poop). 



The village was made for exploring, and for tourists. Walking up narrow little alleyways carved out of solid rock, you could duck into doorways and look up to find yourself in an elaborately painted centuries old church that was being used to store grain. You could also be led by the hand by little old women who didn't speak a word of English and brought you into their homes to show off the potholders that they had been knitting all winter just for you. After a cup of tea and lots of wrinkly smiles, it only seemed right to buy four. 

I spent a day hiking through some of the valleys surroundıng the village with my main objective being to find one valley in particular. There is a magical place fılled with hundreds of thin spires. Each with a pointy cap of harder stone which gives all the formations a decidedly inappropriate look-  the apptly named Love Valley. 

 Oh what a place. I walked around a corner on a nice, innocent sandy little path and my wise mature countenance dissolved in a 5th graders sense of humor. I lapsed into a helpless fit of giggles. To say that that the spires are phallic is an understatement. There they sit, each slightly ribbed by the weather and standing at very attentive attention. The thing I was not prepared for was the shear size of these massive pillars. Some were so big that they had stairwells carved into the shaft opening into a panoramic view of the whole valley.  I wondered if previous inhabitants had ever looked at their neighbor's spire and felt slightly inadequate. Walking around the base of an average pillar took a considerable amount of time. Leaning back against a spire, I was struck with the thought of how very ancient this place is, and how very lucky I was to be here.

Goreme and the surrounding villages are the Disneyland of Turkey. The whole area was so stunningly surreal and different from any place I had ever been. My trip had finally started.